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by Slytherin Buttercat
Summary: Sirius goes back to Grimmauld Place. He finds Walburga's portrait, and is taken back into his past.


**QLFC Round 10: Walburga Black's Portrait (Chaser 3)**

 **Prompts: (quote) 'Real, or not real?' , (dialogue) "Please tell me you're being ironic", (song) 'Forever Young' by Jay-Z ft. Mr Hudson**

 **Warnings for child abuse.**

 **Word Count: 1175**

 **Thanks to Lizzie for being an awesome beta!**

* * *

He stood outside 12 Grimmauld Place, his heart racing. He had hoped that he would never have to go near this home again, and now Dumbledore was forcing him to live there. Sirius couldn't do this. He _wouldn't_ do it. No one could force him.

With a _crack_ that made Sirius jump, Dumbledore Apparated onto the sidewalk. He rested his hand on Sirius' shoulder. "You have to do this, Sirius. You have no choice. It's the only way you'll be safe."

"I can't go back there. You have no idea what happened to me in there."

Dumbledore looked down, his expression sombre. "I can hazard a guess. But there's no other choice. You have to stay close to the Order, and as you offered us Grimmauld Place…."

"So it's all my fault I'm trapped here?"

"Technically, yes." Dumbledore met Sirius' eyes. "I'm sorry, Sirius."

Sirius took a deep breath in before reaching out for the door handle. He was in Gryffindor. He was supposed to be brave.

He could do this.

* * *

He _couldn't_ do this.

The first week in his childhood hell was spent pouting on the sofa in the living room. The only time he got up was when he needed to use the toilet—only in the downstairs loo, as he was _not_ going upstairs— and even then, it was with reluctance.

The living room was, after all, the only room in which he had no bad memories.

The second week was when an army of redheads—and one brunette—invaded his house, taking up all the space. They went everywhere he went; they joined him in the living room, they followed him down the hall . . . if they'd been allowed, Sirius got the feeling the redheaded twins would probably join him in the bathroom, too.

The third week was when he had had enough. He wasn't even allowed to send mail to his godson. Dumbledore was going to pay.

Sirius crept upstairs whilst everyone was distracted. There was a window in his bedroom that didn't lock—he'd permanently disabled it back when he'd run away. It was time to escape. As he passed through the entryway, his arm brushed up against a dark curtain. After a moment of hesitation, Sirius pulled the curtain aside, hoping to let some light into this house.

It was a massive mistake.

Facing him, with a wicked grin on her face, was his mother.

"Sirius Orion Black."

Sirius' heart stopped. "No," he whispered. "You can't be."

Her eyes narrowed, and Sirius, with a rush of relief, realized she was only a portrait. "Hello, son."

He dropped to his knees as the memories flooded him.

 _He sat on the edge of the bathtub, pulse pounding. His mother had specifically told him to not make a fool of himself, and he failed her. It wasn't his fault the wine fell; he was only trying to get to the potatoes in the pantry. He was hungry, and potatoes were the one thing that he liked._

 _He had run away as soon as the guests left. His mother's death glares had scared him, and even Reggie looked sorry for him. It was only a bottle of wine…._

 _The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs caused his heart to race. 'I'm going to die. I'm going to die,' he thought._

 _Hearing his mother knock on one of the other doors, Sirius slid backwards, falling into the bathtub with a loud crash. He held his breath as he heard the footsteps come closer. He was only seven. He was too young to die._

" _Sirius?" he heard her ask. "Are you in there?"_

 _He shook his head frantically, not realising that she couldn't see him yet. The door opened, revealing his mother. Her face was swimming with anger and Sirius whimpered._

" _Found you."_

 _He winced, scrambling to the back of the bathtub. "I'm sorry, Mummy. I didn't mean to. It was an accident!"_

" _What did I tell you not to do?"_

 _She sounded angry as well._

" _Not to make a fool of myself."_

" _What did you do?"_

" _I made a fool of myself, but I didn't—"_

 _Her hand reached out and snaked itself around his wrist. She jerked him out of the bath and threw him onto the floor. "Stand up!"_

 _Sirius dragged himself up, his hands shaking. He'd landed funny on his elbow, and a tingly kind of pain shot through his arm. "What have you been, Sirius?"_

 _Sirius looked down at the floor. "Naughty."_

 _She slapped his cheek. "Look at me whilst you're talking!"_

 _He looked, chin trembling. "I have been naughty, Mummy."_

" _And what happens to naughty boys?"_

" _They get punished."_

 _She advanced on him with a malicious smile on her face._

He glared at the portrait. "I didn't know you'd died," he said finally, nodding his head toward the plaque on the wall announcing Walburga Black's death date.

"I'm so glad to see you've come home, son," she said.

" _Please_ tell me you're being ironic."

"Obviously." She shook her head. "What are you doing here?"

"Believe me, it's against my will."

She folded her arms across her chest. "You left this house. You told me _Gryffindor_ was your real house. You said you'd never be back. Tell me, _son_ , was that threat real, or not real? Didn't I always tell you to keep your promises?"

"Like I said—against my will." Sirius got to his feet. "If I could have kept that promise, I would have."

Sirius heard footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later, two identical redheads appeared in his line of vision. "We were wondering where you got to," one of them said.

"What's that on the wall?" asked the other.

"We didn't know you had any portraits, Sirius!"

"Who is she?"

"Sirius," his mother said very gently, "is that a Weasley? In my house?"

Sirius said nothing.

The portrait bristled. "Have you willingly let blood traitors into my house?"

"Maybe."

"Have they touched my things?"

"Maybe."

His mother threw back her head and let out a scream. "You're a disgrace! Letting blood traitors into my home? What are you thinking?"

The Weasley twins had backed up against the opposite wall, eyes wide with identical fright. "Whoa," whispered one.

"Clearly I'm not thinking, Mother," Sirius said. "Clearly I'm not worthy of being a Black. We've known that for years."

"Blood traitor filth!" his mother howled. "Scum of the world—on my _carpets_!"

Sirius reached out to grab the edge of the curtain he'd pushed aside earlier. "I think it's time you went away."

She stopped screaming. "Don't you dare. We aren't through here."

Sirius smirked. "Yeah, I've got one more thing to say to you."

"It had better be an apology!"

His smirk spread into a grin. "There's a Muggle-born downstairs."

His mother fainted, and Sirius pulled the curtain back across her frame. "Don't worry about her," he said to the twins, who had gone uncharacteristically silent. "She's always been like this."

He said it with a smile. He knew now that he could face the rest of the house after facing _that._

* * *

 **Eh.**

 **~Buttercat**


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